


Damned If You Don't

by SnowWhiteKnight



Series: Do Or Don't [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 16:18:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5792329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowWhiteKnight/pseuds/SnowWhiteKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow up to "Damned If You Do"<br/>Sandor reminisces as he heads to the Wall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damned If You Don't

The journey north was too quiet, leaving him alone with his thoughts too often. Memories of his little bird flit through his mind as she once flit through his life. He questioned every interaction, every instance where he could have done something different, anything that would have kept her alive. _Should have killed the inbred bastard during the battle, instead of going to her room. Killed the king, then stolen her away in the night. Killed the king, give her pretty words, stolen her away in the night. No, killed the king, give her pretty words, take a kiss, stolen her away. No, wait! Killed the king, give her pretty words, stolen her away, married. Lots of kisses. Then find a home. Make a home. Have a family. She would have wanted a large family. Lots of babies. I can--, I could have made lots of babies with her. I would have given her all the babies she wanted._ He sighed. _Seven hells..._ _This is going to be a long journey..._

**********

He questioned his sanity about taking the black when the freezing rains came. Sandor counted himself lucky that he had thought to bring oiled cloaks for both himself and Stranger. Last thing he wanted to do was die because he caught a cold. He was too far past the crossroads inn to turn back. Besides that, he had been nearly a month on the road and Stranger was _still_ not used to pulling a cart and was being more difficult than usual. Or maybe he just hated it in general. The horse was too smart for his own good sometimes. Sandor knew he was closer an estate on the river or ford or whatever the hells people called it, somewhere in between the Twins, the Eyrie and the Fingers, that Tyrion had asked him to visit. A chest needed to be delivered to the lord there, a reward for services rendered to the crown, and since Sandor was heading that way, it seemed "fortuitous" that he should deliver it. _Imp probably didn't want to spend the crown's coin to hire someone to do it._ Not that he blamed the Halfman. From what he understood, the crown was deeper in debt than anyone had realized. It would take less than a fortnight to travel there and back to the Kingsroad, unless the damned rains kept up. He had originally considered just dumping the chest on the doorstep to the small keep, but now he was grateful to have a place to stay that was dry. A maid let him in after he left Stranger at the stables.

He was shaking the mud from his boots when a familiar and unwelcome voice greeted him.

“As I live and breathe, it’s the Hound,” Bronn said. Sandor growled at him. He didn’t like that he owed the sellsword his life at the battle of Blackwater.

“What are you doing here?” He made no effort to hide his distaste.

“Watching over this place until the rightful lord gets back. He’s off being a ninny for his lady wife. He’s a friend of Lord Tyrion, who offered my services.”

“Sounds like a bleeding sot,” Sandor replied dryly. Bronn laughed.

“I agree. Oh, here’s his lady now.”

Sandor grimaced, turned to greet the lady and froze.

“Sandor!” Sansa cried happily and threw herself at him. She kissed him over and over, “What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for you. Oh, you’re soaked! Come, let’s get you dry.” She grasped his hand and lead him away. He was still in shock, allowing her to easily guide him without argument. He thought he heard Bronn laughing behind him.

He soon found himself in a master bedchamber, his little bird stripping him of his wet clothing and drying him as best she could. A tub sat in the middle of the room, and she pushed him to get in. The water was lukewarm, but still better than the rain he had just come in from. He finally began to regain his wits.

“Sansa...you’re...how?” Maybe not all of his wits.

She smiled lovingly at him and kissed him again. “Do you remember the story of the star-crossed lovers? The prince and the princess of rival nations?”

He vaguely recalled the story, but nodded. The prince and princess died for their love of each other.

“Well, do you remember how they died?” That part was fuzzier in his head, and she must have seen it on his face. She began to scrub his back as she spoke, “The prince drank poison in order to join his love in death. Only, she wasn’t dead. She had taken a potion that mimicked death. She was actually sleeping. For a whole sennight she slept in this death-like slumber. The day that the prince arrived to see her, he drank the poison. Moments later, she woke up, discovered he had killed himself and used his dagger to end her life for real.” She was scrubbing his arm now. “When I drank the vial, I thought I was the prince, but I was actually the princess. I woke up outside of the city, surrounded by my handmaidens, Ser Bronn, Tyrion’s squire and a few other select guards. Shae explained to me that Varys had given me a deathsleep, not sweet poison. They are very similar in appearance, and neither is widely used. It was the only way to get me out of there. There was the possibility that Joffrey would still cut my head off, but since I still have it, it would seem that Lord Varys was able to prevent that. Bronn and Shae brought me here. Tyrion planned to send you out here as soon as he could, but I didn’t think it would take more than a sennight or two!” She smiled shyly at him. “I missed you.”

“But...the lord of this estate…” he said, still confused. “You are the lady…”

“The lord we’ve been waiting for is you,” she explained. “Officially, you are charged with the safety of a prisoner of war, that would be me. Varys wants to keep me safe should something happen to my brothers and I become the heir to Winterfell. He's playing the long game, I suppose. Unofficially, we are a resting point for Varys’, um...associates. There’s an empty building out back, mostly just a room for sleeping, with a second, secret room for storage. Once the war has been settled, you will be rewarded with lands and titles befitting the husband of a lady. Until then, this place is ours, and we are but simple folk, trying to make it in these hard times. This area was… During one of the battles, the people who lived here were decimated, so really, it’s just us and the few others who have decided to live here.” She smiled shyly at him. “Oh, Bronn will head back to the capital now that you are here. Some of the entourage will also go, though a few will stay in the area, make their homes nearby. They were given a choice. This is the largest housing in the area, and we are the ‘liege lords’, for lack of a better term. It’s a bit like how a regular estate is set up, but on a smaller scale. We will all work as a community, as a village, in order to survive.”

"King's dead..."

"I know. And I know you kept your promise to not do anything foolish." A gentle smile just for him. It warmed him more than the bath.

“Your family…” He hated that she was still separated from them.

“Podrick, Tyrion’s squire, delivered messages to them, one from Tyrion and then a second one from me. They know I am alive and being kept hidden for my safety. I told them about my protector, my husband. I did not mention your name, because I fear that would have them more worried than relieved, but I did _want_ to tell them. That I love you with all my heart, and that I have nothing to fear from you. I settled for telling them that you are the only person I trust to keep me safe and happy. I haven’t heard back from them, but in order to keep my location a secret, Podrick was going to return to King’s Landing and any messages will be brought later. You should have a chest in your possession, it will have the messages in it, as well as news and coin to help around here. We are but a small part of a much larger plot. Tyrion and Varys are planning something, I don’t know what exactly, but I believe it involves the last of the Targaryens. In the future, Bronn will be sent on missions and he will drive a supply cart as a cover. He will make stops here, deliver messages, and anything else we need. In the meantime…” she trailed her fingers up his arm, “we will live here. Shae and Mila will stay here, too, along with some of the guards in my escort, they are expecting you to be the master-at-arms, by the way, but Olive will leave with Bronn.”

“Why?” he asked. _Why would anyone go with that blackguard?_

Sansa grinned. “They married a little more than a sennight ago. Olive has captured the heart of Bronn, it would seem. Tyrion is going to award him a small estate, make him a lord. That is in the future, however. For now, they will travel Westeros, maybe even to the Free Cities. Olive is very excited. I’ll miss her, but when Bronn returns to visit, so will she, so I have that to look forward to. Tyrion will also make frequent visits, for Shae, as well as the good of the realm. They married in secret, before she joined my 'escort'. Cersei was sniffing around and would have found her eventually. Tyrion managed to convince her to leave somehow. I suspect it may have to do with the nausea she had last month.” She leaned forward, her arms around his neck and began to nibble on his good ear. “Enough about the others, for now, I would really prefer to make up for the time we’ve lost. Do you agree?”

"I was headed to the Wall..." he mumbled dumbly.

"And you still can," she whispered in his ear, "Or, you don't. Instead, you could stay here, as my lawful husband, help me run this estate and every day, I will love you more and more."

“I would like nothing better than being able to fuck my wife properly,” he said. He wanted to take back the words immediately, give her prettier words. Surely her modesty wouldn’t allow her to stay with someone like him, no matter what she thought before. He was surprised when she laughed.

“Then let’s get to it, my love.”

He didn’t even bother to dry off, simply lifted her as he stood, and dripped water all the way to their bed as his charming wife laughed lyrically and accepted his eagerness with her own.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, I had to fake ya'll out somehow. One of these days, I will write an actual tragedy fic. It will not be today, unfortunately(?).


End file.
